My Queer Superpower

Chapter One

We were both grinning from ear to ear and I had never been more excited in my life. My heart was pounding in my chest like it was brand new from a transplant. I stared up at him in disbelief as he towered over me.

We had finally stopped laughing and screaming like little girls who'd been given back stage passes to see our favorite boy band. Only him and I existed in that moment. Our smiles faded as our eyes fixed on what I held in my hands. It was much heavier than expected, but I loved the feel of it all the same.

It didn't take much convincing to get him to let me hold it and I wasn't in a hurry to let go. I wanted to live in suspense. I stroked the thick, hard metal instrument in my hand. It was smooth and perfect in every way.

It was Saylor's brand new Fish eye lens.

"Put it on already!" he shouted. Saylor Reynolds was my best friend and exactly half of the total number of friends I had or ever had in my entire life. The other half wasn't in photography class with us. She'd chosen art instead, which was certainly the right choice for her.

At the moment, we were—or I was, rather—swapping lenses on the absurdly expensive Sony Alpha camera Saylor got for his birthday awhile back. We always referred to everything we did as we, even if it was only one of us doing it. We puked, we took a shit, our eye spasmed, although it was only ever my eye that did the spasming. Saylor was a great friend and this rule had been unfairly drawn up for my benefit.

I screwed on the new lens and returned the old one to the black leather camera bag sitting on the bench beside me. I handed the camera up to Saylor while donning the wide, pointed-canine smile I knew he had trouble resisting. It was one of exactly two tools at my disposal, but outside of my family and friends, tool one had been entirely useless. I was happy to let him use it first. It was his lens, his camera and he was the better photographer—screwy eye aside.

"No, Rudy." Saylor crossed his arms in refusal. "You're taking the first ones."

Rudy wasn't my name, but I didn't mind that he called me it. He clearly wasn't taking the camera or any of my honorable bullshit though. Man, I loved him. He was already backing away through the grass toward the Two-Faced willow tree that stood near the center of the park. It didn't actually have two-faces and aside from us, no one called it that.

To everyone else, it was the Lucky Freedom willow tree. It was the tree everyone took at least one classy senior picture under and the tree most shamelessly crossed at least one base under—a rite of passage even I hoped to achieve one day.

Bases referred to the cringe worthy sports style accounting of promiscuity. Though, my explanation probably wasn't necessary. The absolute worst jock-isms have a way of withstanding the test of time.

"Fine!" I shouted, looping the camera strap over my head. I was way too clumsy to risk free-handing it over to him.

I also gave up way too easily, but don't be fooled, I could be unreasonably stubborn about the most ridiculous things. Such as, the time when Saylor decided to keep a secret from me at a winter sleepover. I ran out of my cousin's house barefoot, wearing only boxers and marched through the snow in below freezing weather. I threatened to walk the two miles across town, all the way back to my house unless he told me the secret.

He did and he carried me all the way back to the house, but he didn't have to. I'd have died or given in. We both knew that. My mom wasn't home, so the door was locked and I wasn't hiding house keys in my corn hole.

Saylor was much taller and wider than I was, but he was also a gentle giant and everyone knew it. I wish they hadn't. It would've made high school a hell of a lot easier on me. Not to say Saylor wouldn't have given his life to protect me, but I was more feared than he was. If only for the attention my eye spasms drew. It wasn't anything major. I was born with an astigmatism that gave me a lazy eye and the horrible nickname Mad-Eye Rudy.